Paris

It was seven in the morning when the sparkBegan to give. the bath was spilling over, mySelf pity spilling with it, so i, i fled the countryTo start it all again and found myself in paris inThe cemetery rain.Dear anne came to me and took me by the armShowed me old disasters embedded in the palmWarned me of a lady with the sun behind her head.With a a granite neck, a singer who can never singAgain. but you, my love:You must come, come to joy, turn your head to the sunIts down to you, you can shine, you can shake all theSorrow from your palm.. it's down to you if you dareTo come to joy.What was it i ran from, what burnt away inside?Four hundred schoolboys and a lawyer at my sideAlways running with these legs going nowhereA ghost in the system, and angel on the stairs...But oh! this time....I shall turn, turn my head to the sun..They are marching out of me.. one by oneWalking free. oh! they're going out of....Oh! i can feel it moving, this time i'm really moving.Are you ready to come, come to joy well it's really down toYou if you dare to enjoy... it's down to you... hold the keyIn your hands.. it's all in the palm of your hands